7. Scientific Method
In the aftermath of Voyager's death-defying flight through a binary pulsar, as the crewmembers found themselves taking a deep breath and feeling glad to be alive, Seven's feet directed her to Holodeck Two almost in spite of herself. She wanted to take another look at that Leonardo da Vinci simulation to which Captain Janeway had introduced her recently, and which the Doctor had been using as a holographic hideout after the Srivani had taken him off-line.
The Srivani. She'd never admit it, but in the old human phrase, they gave her the creeps. She still caught herself looking around out of the corner of her ocular implant, checking for silent figures in brown robes scanning people with instruments or sticking them with needles. Due to the Doctor's adjustment, she had been the only one able to see them – at first, anyway.
The painting studio was still running, but the students were gone. Instead the Doctor stood by the window in his doublet, hose and feathered hat, drawing with a lead pencil in tiny, measured strokes. The 'night sky' was a deep, velvety blue; the room was lit by a dozen white candles, throwing the half-finished sculptures around the room and the flying machines hanging from the ceiling into flickering lights and shadows. For a moment, it looked as if wings were growing from the Doctor's back. Seven blinked, and the illusion was gone. It was .
"Lovely, isn't it?" he said, with a sweeping arm gesture to include the entire room.
"It is disorganized," she commented, picking up a rough sketch of 'Carlotta', the holographic model from earlier that day. "Yet … strangely fascinating."
"You would think so."
"Should you not be in Sickbay?"
"Oh, Ensign Wilde's got it covered. Mr. Paris switched duty shifts with him – for personal reasons, I suppose."
He winked. Paris and Torres's love affair was fodder for shipwide gossip. Seven ignored the hint as only Seven could ignore things, and instead of asking for details, she merely paced around the room, idly examining some work in progress or other.
"How did you do it, by the way?" the Doctor asked suddenly.
"Do what?"
"De-cloak the aliens. If you'd finished modifying the EPS relays, we'd all have noticed."
"Commander Tuvok interrupted me and became suspicious. To convince him, I de-cloaked the nearest Srivani with a modified phaser beam, took her hostage, and brought her to the Captain."
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle.
"Good heavens. Remind me not to get on your bad side."
Seven drew herself up, stiffer than ever. "Was my behavior wrong?"
"No!" he hurried to say, catching the hurt hidden far down inside those blue eyes of hers. "As a matter of fact, you did splendidly. You saved us all."
She blinked. "I did?"
"I can think of few people who would have demonstrated the self-posession and courage you showed today. Watching those … people … hurting and manipulating our crew, knowing you're the only one who could see them and walking with your head held high as if nothing was wrong?"
"I am Borg. I do not demonstrate emotion."
"Ah, but you do. I've seen you frightened, remember?"
She remembered her first day severed from the hive mind, screaming and snarling, feeling like a trapped animal inside Voyager's brig. She had forced herself to fight that feeling down, to ignore the Srivani as if she could not see them, and finally to catch one and prove they were real. Now she felt drained from the stress of the day; perhaps the Doctor was right.
"Part of social interaction, Seven my dear, is learning to take compliments. If I say you're a remarkable woman, please believe it."
Seven felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading to her cheeks. After all the damage she had caused aboard this crew ... her ignorance of protocol, her taking up of Captain Janeway's precious time, let alone her two attempts to break out, assimilate the ship and join the Collective ... she had put them all in so much danger. Now here was this hologram - this man - telling her she had saved them, that she was doing something right. A powerful feeling rose up in her, like a wave, choking her voice as she spoke.
"If I am functioning as an efficient and productive member of this crew, that will be sufficient."
The Doctor rolled his eyes, smiled tolerantly, and handed her the sketch he had been working on. It was her own face, implants and all, staring out at the viewer with fierce determination.